


my heart, it will be open (and i'll try to give it)

by mochihui



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe, Angst, Childhood Friends, Everyone's bad at feelings, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Pining, Songfic, jihoon and mingyu cameos, junhan for 0.2 seconds, lapslock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-09 09:09:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20992304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mochihui/pseuds/mochihui
Summary: junhui is beautiful, and wonwoo doesn't know what to do about it.ora confession by the water fountain and a boy who can't stop running away.





	my heart, it will be open (and i'll try to give it)

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by water fountain by alec benjamin (listen [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5ado75KpV9w))

i.

junhui is beautiful.

to seven-year-old wonwoo, it’s simple. the sky is blue, the grass is green, and junhui is beautiful. whether he's laughing or crying, eating or sleeping, junhui is undeniably beautiful.

today, junhui’s wearing a bright purple t shirt with a sleeping cartoon cat printed on the front, face scrunched up in concentration as he cuts through a piece of blue construction paper. it's an adorable sight, and wonwoo’s lips curl upwards in a small smile as he stares at junhui’s slight pout, at the way he slowly maneuvers the scissors to cut exactly on the lines drawn onto the paper.

he's so caught up in staring that his own scissors get a little too close to his fingers, and he lets out a surprised hiss as metal slices through skin.

junhui looks up immediately, eyes wide in concern. vaguely, wonwoo thinks he can see sparkling stars reflected in his irises, but the sharp sting in his finger pulls him out of his thoughts.

“wonwoo! are you okay?” junhui reaches out to grasp wonwoo’s hand and pull it towards him, scissors clattering to the table. his hands are warm as they cup wonwoo’s injury, studying it with worry.

“it's just a small cut, junnie. i'll be fine.” wonwoo pulls his hand back (a little reluctantly) and inspects it himself. there really isn't that much blood, and the sting is already fading.

“it's bleeding! you need a bandaid! teacher!” junhui springs out of his seat, waving his hand in the air wildly. a smile spreads across wonwoo’s face at the sight. somewhere in his chest, a warm feeling pulses, created by junhui’s concern for him.

by the end of the hour, wonwoo’s finger is wrapped neatly in a spongebob bandaid that junhui had insisted on using (“it’s spongebob! of course it’ll make you feel better!”) and he’s putting the finishing touches on his handmade paper lantern, taping the edges together carefully.

“wonwoo, look!” wonwoo turns to face junhui’s voice as the other boy proudly dangles his own lantern in the air. his smile is brilliant and blinding, like a ray of sunshine, eyes full of joy crinkled at the edges. 

“it looks great, junnie.” at the praise, junhui’s grin only grows wider. he slings an arm around wonwoo’s shoulder and starts chattering away, about how he's going to hang it in the corner of his room and get his mom to put a lightbulb in the center to make patterns on the walls. wonwoo listens and laughs along, the warm feeling in his chest spreading through the rest of his body.

junhui is always beautiful, wonwoo thinks, but he might be the most beautiful when he smiles.

ii. 

they're ten when junhui climbs through wonwoo’s window for the first time.

the first time it happens, wonwoo is reading a book by lamplight, lost in the pages and the story. the sudden tap on his window startles him out of his imagination, and he looks up.

junhui’s face appears with a small wave and a gesture for wonwoo to open the window. it takes a moment for the shock to wear off, for wonwoo to quickly cross the room, let junhui through, and silently thank the lord that his room was on the first floor of the house.

“what're you doing here?” wonwoo whispers once junhui is safely inside. he takes in junhui’s wrinkled pajamas (cat patterned, as always) and grass-stained socks with a small pang of worry.

junhui shrugs. “i couldn't sleep. dad and mom were--” he trails off, eyebrows furrowing into a frown as he stares at the floor, not meeting wonwoo’s eyes.

wonwoo catches on quickly. “you can stay here if you want. i have a full sized bed, there’s space for both of us.” he pads back across the room to flop down on his bed and pat the space beside him. junhui follows and climbs in, curling up and pulling the covers to his chin.

wonwoo flicks the light off and scoots down to face junhui. “is everything okay?” he asks quietly. in the darkness, he can barely make out junhui’s features, but there's a tension in the air that tugs at wonwoo’s heart.

junhui sighs, a sound of exhaustion so unlike his usual sunny demeanor, and wonwoo’s worry doubles. “it just,” he pauses, searching for the right words, “it doesn't feel like home anymore. it's too lonely in the dark.”

wonwoo hums in response, reaching out a hand to brush through junhui’s hair, pushing the stray strands off his forehead. “good thing i'm your next door neighbor, then. goodnight junnie, sleep well.”

a few minutes later, after junhui’s breathing has evened out, wonwoo’s mother opens the door and stops at the sight of both boys in wonwoo’s bed. before she can say anything, wonwoo whispers, “things aren't good for him at home, mom.”

wonwoo’s mother nods in understanding. she reaches out to ruffle wonwoo’s hair. “okay. goodnight, wonwoo.” she drops a kiss on his forehead, then leans over to leave one on the crown of junhui’s head too. wonwoo’s love for his mother swells up in his chest.

“thanks mom. goodnight.”

it takes wonwoo a while to fall asleep that night, plagued by worry for junhui and conjuring up images of what he might be running from. when he finally does, he dreams of sunny smiles and warm hands and fingertips running through silky smooth hair.

in the morning, wonwoo wakes to a still sleeping junhui, soft features bathed in golden sunlight, and his breath catches in his throat.

iii.

eventually, the rest of the world catches up to junhui’s beauty.

by the time they're thirteen, junhui has received at least four or five confessions, all from girls with bright blushes and quiet stutters and sometimes a handmade card or two. he turns down each one with an apology and a smile that usually makes the girls giggle, rejection forgotten.

wonwoo stands by junhui quietly every time he's approached in the hallway, every time he returns a greeting and shakes a hand and accepts a hug. he’s like junhui’s shadow: silent, unnoticed, the darker side of junhui’s bright presence. 

and for some reason, junhui is still his best friend. he still climbs through wonwoo’s window on nights when things get worse at home, still rushes to find bandaids for even the smallest of paper cuts. he turns down party invites from the various sports teams just to spend afternoons lounging on wonwoo’s couch, playing video games and sharing a jumbo bag of spicy crackers. he sits with wonwoo in the cafeteria in their own little corner, even when the more popular kids in their grade have made it painfully obvious that they've saved junhui a seat at their more coveted tables.

wonwoo’s not sure how he feels about it all. there's something burning in his chest every time junhui is invited to another party, or asked on another date, or greeted by yet another person in the hallway, but the feeling dissipates quickly when junhui offers another rejection, another polite “no thanks”, and turns back to wonwoo to dive back into their conversation.

sometimes, wonwoo wonders if junhui stays with him out of pity. he knows that he doesn't really have any other friends, that junhui is the only person he can truly rely on. it doesn't add up: if junhui has more popular people to be hanging out with, why does he always choose wonwoo instead? 

but whenever he considers voicing his concerns, junhui will let out a full body laugh, or pull wonwoo into one of his tight hugs, and wonwoo’s fears will evaporate in light of the warmth running through his veins and the slight fluttering of his stomach. 

if wonwoo's really honest with himself, he knows he'll follow junhui to the ends of the earth if he has to. he tries not to think about whether junhui would do the same for him.

today, wonwoo’s sitting in the side yard of their middle school, leaning against the brick wall and unwrapping his sandwich. he's been spending lunchtime outside more and more, ever since the weather got warmer. he prefers to avoid the loud, overcrowded cafeteria (and the constant calling of junhui’s name from various tables) when he has the chance.

someone plops down into the grass next to him. “hey,” junhui says, voice soft around the edges, and wonwoo’s lips curl upwards involuntarily.

“hey yourself,” he murmurs back, taking a bite of his sandwich. 

they eat in comfortable silence. junhui’s hands are a bit more fidgety than usual (which is saying something, because junhui can never stay still anyway) and he doesn't start up his normal chatter, but wonwoo doesn’t think much of it. as loud and bright as junhui can be, he’s also much more contemplative than he lets on. 

a few minutes later, wonwoo gets up to throw their sandwich wrappers away. when he returns, junhui is standing by the water fountain built into the side of the school, fingers twisting together nervously.

“what's up?” wonwoo asks as he approaches, slightly alarmed. junhui doesn't usually get nervous, especially not to the point where he's practically shaking.

“i-” junhui takes a deep breath. “i wanted to tell you something.”

“okay.” wonwoo replies, brow furrowing. he has no idea what junhui might have to say that's gotten him this worked up.

there's a few seconds of silence, as wonwoo frowns and junhui fidgets, then--

“i like guys.”

the words tumble from junhui’s lips, and he stares at the ground, not meeting wonwoo’s eyes.

“oh.” wonwoo relaxes, takes a breath of relief. “that's okay, junnie, you can like whoever you like.”

junhui’s hands are still moving, picking at the hem of his pastel blue sweatshirt. “wonwoo, i--” he looks up, finally making eye contact, “i like you.”

“oh.” wonwoo feels like he's been punched straight in the gut, unable to breathe. he stares back at junhui, whose eyes glitter with what might be tears, heart racing and mind blank. oh.

time seems to stop for them in that moment: two boys stand on opposite sides of a water fountain, sun glinting off shining metal. one of them is holding his heart out, cupped in delicate hands, and although the other longs to take it, he simply doesn't know how.

the only thing he does is walk away.

(a week later, after countless awkward silences and forced conversations, junhui climbs through wonwoo’s window one more time.

“my dad moved out.” he says, perched on the windowsill. “so, uh, everything’s okay at home now.”

wonwoo knows what junhui is trying to tell him. he knows, and something in him aches in protest, but he can't bring himself to speak.

“also,” junhui looks down at his hands, which are fidgeting yet again, “there's a dance studio opening up in town this summer and i'm going to be taking classes, so i might not be around that much.” 

“okay.” wonwoo murmurs. “that's great, junhui.” his light tone sounds fake and forced, unusually high pitched, and he inwardly cringes. 

junhui smiles, small and sad, nothing like the boxy grin he usually shoots in wonwoo’s direction, and wonwoo hates it. he hates that junhui feels this way, that he’s lost his brilliance over what wonwoo did. he wants to say something, apologize, plea for forgiveness, but the words are stuck in the back of his throat and he stays silent.

“see you around, wonwoo.” junhui turns and swings his way back out of wonwoo’s window. wonwoo watches his silhouette disappear into the night with a sense of finality.

they both know junhui won't come back again.)

iv. 

junhui and wonwoo haven't spoken to each other in at least three years.

in that time, junhui’s interest in dance quickly turned into a full-fledged passion. soon, he was spending hours upon hours at the studio to practice and perform in recitals and local competitions. with the studio came a new group of friends, a circle of dancers and performers who shone almost as brightly as junhui himself.

wonwoo watches them from a distance, watches junhui’s grin return in full force, watches him fall out of his chair laughing as he clings tightly onto the person closest to him, the way he used to cling to wonwoo. he understands it now, understands the fluttering in his chest when he catches a glimpse of junhui in the cafeteria or the skip in his heartbeat when he passes him in the hallway. he understands the way his mouth went dry when junhui came in on their first day of sophomore year with shoulder length hair, the way he couldn't tear his eyes away as deft fingers pulled it into a ponytail right before gym class.

wonwoo understands it now: he's in love with junhui. even after three years of radio silence, his feelings haven't changed one bit. he's still the same starstruck seven year old who thought junhui’s smile was the brightest star in the universe.

and wonwoo regrets. he regrets not having realized sooner, regrets not being able to tell junhui that he liked him back as they stood by the water fountain on that fateful day three years ago. the guilt washes over him in waves, threatens to swallow him whole each time he sees junhui, in shared classes or during lunch or on the sidewalk in front of their houses, walking home from dance practice. there's an ache in his chest that won't go away, and he's no longer too young, too naive to not know what it means.

wonwoo misses junhui.

it's not all bad, though. after a few days of aimlessly wandering into afterschool club meetings at the beginning of freshman year, wonwoo wound up in the music wing, where he met one lee jihoon. although jihoon hadn't been particularly friendly at first, wonwoo had latched onto him when he heard about jihoon’s interest in music production and lyric writing. he had brought jihoon a notebook full of his own poetry, and the two of them had spent a whole weekend turning the lines into coherent poems and song verses. from then on, they were practically inseparable.

(most of wonwoo’s writing is about junhui: descriptions of his face, flashes of their memories together, all tinged with an edge of guilt and regret. jihoon is polite enough not to ask.)

now wonwoo spends his afternoons sitting in an empty music classroom, finishing his homework and scribbling verses into his beat up notebook, while jihoon plugs in his headphones to work on his latest track. 

when they start sophomore year, jihoon introduces wonwoo to kim mingyu, one year their junior and jihoon’s childhood friend (or “lifelong annoyance”, as jihoon likes to put it). mingyu is energetic and always cheerful, befriending wonwoo almost instantly and making an effort to seek him out at lunchtimes and during free periods. he reminds wonwoo of a giant golden retriever (and a little bit of junhui, but wonwoo suppresses those thoughts as soon as they pop into his head).

wonwoo soon finds out that mingyu happens to know several people from the same dance studio as junhui. he talks about them often: about soonyoung, a boy the same age as wonwoo who is “head over heels for jihoon” (jihoon hits mingyu when he hears this), about seokmin and minghao, who mingyu deems the most talented people in the school, and about his younger friends, who are still in middle school (“losers” mingyu grins when he mentions them).

it doesn't take long for jihoon and mingyu to figure out that there's something going on between wonwoo and junhui. although neither of them bring it up, jihoon sends wonwoo knowing looks when he catches him staring for too long, and mingyu frowns whenever he's walking with wonwoo and they pass junhui’s group in the hallway. wonwoo is glad that they don't ask, thought; he's not sure he can handle talking about it, even three years later. the fact that he still likes junhui after all these years is terrifying in its own right.

one afternoon, wonwoo’s curled up in the corner of jihoon’s usual music room, notebook propped against his knees and pen in hand. mingyu’s doing homework on the floor, books spread out haphazardly, and jihoon’s at the computer in the corner, headphones on and gently nodding to the beat of his newest work.

“hyung.” mingyu breaks the silence in the room and wonwoo starts, looking up. jihoon doesn't move, eyes locked onto his computer screen.

“what's up?” wonwoo asks, lowering his notebook so he could see mingyu’s face. 

“can i read what you're writing?” mingyu’s voice is quieter than usual, catching wonwoo off guard. “you were frowning, that's all,” he adds hastily, “you don't have to let me if you don't want to.”

wonwoo looks down at his page, at the words scrawled messily in corners and margins, full of scribbles and scrapped verses, with only one stanza circled.

_if i could go back,_  
_i'd build you a fountain,_  
_just like the one we were standing by_  
_when i lost you._

“okay.” wonwoo murmurs softly, passing the notebook to mingyu. he stares at the ceiling, the image of a shimmering silver water fountain and a certain boy’s beautiful smile burned into the back of his eyelids, haunting him each time he blinks.

mingyu taps him on the leg and hand the notebook back to him, eyes full of sympathy. for a while, neither of them speak. 

“you should tell him, hyung.” mingyu finally says. 

“i can’t.” wonwoo sighs, pressing a hand over his eyes (out of frustration or sadness, he doesn't know).

“why not?” mingyu asks, head tilting to the side in curiosity. “you've liked him for this long. how do you know he doesn't feel the same way?”

“it's not that.” wonwoo mutters, eyes squeezed shut against the tide of memories threatening to swallow him whole. “he deserves someone better, gyu. he deserves someone who’s brace enough to stay with him, not someone who walks away because they're scared.”

and it's the truth. junhui deserves the world, deserves someone who will give him love without hesitation. not wonwoo, who couldn't even respond after junhui had put his heart out in the open, who shattered it with his scared silence and receding footsteps.

“i don't know, wonwoo.” mingyu says thoughtfully. “maybe he does deserve someone better, but does it really matter if you're the one he wants?”

v.

wonwoo wishes he wasn't here.

honestly, it's all mingyu’s fault. the younger had dragged wonwoo out the door, saying something about how “hansol’s hosting a party tonight it's going to be great” and “you're eighteen, you have to go to at least one party before college.” it doesn't help that jihoon’s not here, having wormed his way out under the pretense of finishing a project (wonwoo’s willing to bet twenty dollars that he's marathoning marvel movies instead).

so now wonwoo’s sitting on the edge of the couch in the choi family’s crowded living room, nursing a red solo cup of god knows what. he's pretty sure most of the people here are already in college, courtesy of hansol’s older brother, especially since there's someone actually mixing legitimate drinks in the kitchen. some loud pop song is blasting over huge speakers in the corner, which is probably ruining wonwoo’s ears, and the lights are dim. he takes a small sip of his drink, gags at the bittersweet taste of alcohol and fruit punch, and glances around helplessly for mingyu.

his eyes sweep over the crowd of people dancing in the center of the room. or, at least, attempting to. there's a lot of drunk flailing, a lot of grinding, and some moves that wonwoo’s pretty sure should be reserved for the bedroom. he's just about ready to leave when his gaze catches on someone that makes him sit up straight, eyes narrowing as he tries to make out the person’s face.

junhui’s on the dance floor, wearing ripped jeans, a gray t shirt, and an oversized denim jacket that hangs off of one shoulder. his freshly cut raven black hair (wonwoo had choked on his drink the first time he saw junhui with his new hair) is pushed back to expose his forehead, and there's a slight smirk on his face as he moves with the music. 

he's hot. wonwoo thinks he might spontaneously combust. 

junhui’s face isn't the only thing that attracts wonwoo’s attention. his movements are fluid, sharp and strong but smooth at the same time, and wonwoo is absolutely mesmerized. when junhui throws his head back, exposing his neck, wonwoo feels his throat go dry.

he's so caught up in watching junhui that he almost misses the man dancing right next to him, only noticing when a pair of hands make their way onto junhui’s waist. the other man has long, dirty blonde hair, pulled back into a low ponytail and exposing a sharp jawline and devilish grin. something in wonwoo’s chest begins to burn as those hands pull junhui in closer, slipping under gray fabric in a way that only makes junhui’s smirk grow wider.

wonwoo is frozen, unable to look away from the pair as they get closer and closer, as the other leans in to whisper something in junhui’s ear and junhui grins, sly and dangerous. he watches as the other litters kisses along junhui’s jaw, dipping down towards his collarbone, watches as junhui pulls away just barely, watches as he leans in to connect their lips--

wonwoo springs up from the couch. his drink sloshes slightly, spilling onto his jeans, but he doesn't notice. instead, he pushes his way through the crowd and out of the living room, heading down the hallway and bursting through the front door.

the first breath of cool night air fills wonwoo’s lungs and brings him, crashing, back to reality, heart hammering against his ribs.

junhui doesn't need him. junhui has someone else. junhui doesn't love him anymore.

and for the first time in five years, for the first time since he stood by the water fountain, wonwoo shatters.

he curls up on the sidewalk and cries into his knees, body shaking with each violent sob. he rocks back and forth, face buried in the fabric of his jeans. 

he doesn't love me. he doesn't love me. he doesn't love me.

(mingyu finds him after a while -- minutes, hours, or years, wonwoo doesn't know -- and helps him to his feet, an arm around his shoulder as he walks him home.

tears are still rolling down wonwoo’s cheeks when he collapses into bed, staring at the ceiling in the dark.

undoubtedly, undeniably alone.)

+1

it's weird to be back at his old middle school.

wonwoo walks through the hallways slowly. he's pretty sure things weren't really this small when he was a student here.

(granted, that was almost ten years ago, but wonwoo still doesn't believe he was ever that small).

he doesn't know why he came back, really. it's his spring break, and his classes start up again in three days. he should be spending this time with his family, savoring their presence before he goes back to finish his junior year of university.

wonwoo passes the cafeteria, passes his old classrooms, passes the gymnasium and the locker rooms with graffitied rumors decorating the walls. a wave of nostalgia rushes over him, mind full of the years he spent here as a child.

sometimes he wishes he could be that young again.

he heads out the side door, and as he turns the corner, he's greeted by a familiar sight: his old lunch spot. his feet carry him forward, and then he sees it.

the water fountain.

the metal is dull now, rusting at the edges, but it brings back memories as clear as day. even now, years later, there's a slight pang of pain at the sight.

wonwoo never did get over him, as much as he had tried to tell himself otherwise.

“wonwoo?”

wonwoo whirls around at the all too familiar voice, coming face to face with none other than wen junhui. 

“junhui.” the other boy is wearing a tan and blue sweatshirt, tufts of bleach blonde hair sticking out from under the hood (vaguely, he recalls the selca junhui had posted a couple weeks ago with his new hair color). he takes a step towards wonwoo, a tentative smile on his face.

“i was passing by and saw you here.” junhui explains, voice soft. “thought i’d say hi. you're on spring break too, right?”

wonwoo nods. he and junhui hadn't ended up at the same university, but it hadn't been hard to keep up with what the other was up to, thanks to the internet.

they stare at each other for a moment, silence hanging over them, and wonwoo is brought back to the last time they stood like this. back then they were thirteen, now they're twenty, but the memory remains clear as day.

“i'm sorry.”

“i missed you.”

they speak at the same time, and junhui laughs softly. a smile works its way onto wonwoo’s face at the sound, just as it always has. 

“you first.” junhui gestures at wonwoo to continue, sweater sleeve flopping over his fingertips.

wonwoo takes a deep breath. “i'm sorry for leaving you here and shutting you out.” as he says it, it feels as though something is being lifted from his chest. “you didn't deserve what i did to you, and i shouldn't have done it. it wasn't fair to you, junhui.”

“junnie.” junhui murmurs. “you used to call me junnie.” 

wonwoo’s heart fractures a little at that. “i missed you, junnie.” 

“i missed you too, wonwoo.” junhui looks so small, barefaced and vulnerable and swallowed by his huge hoodie. “i shouldn't have just stopped being your friend after that.”

“you had every right to.” wonwoo replies. “you deserve better. you deserve someone who won't run away from you like i did.”

junhui looks at him, and wonwoo melts a little, caught up in his sparkling eyes all over again. “maybe i deserve better. but what if i want you?”

wonwoo stops breathing. his heart stutters in his chest. “you- you still like me? even after all this time?”

junhui nods. “all this time, wonwoo. i never stopped loving you.”

“what about the guy from the party?” wonwoo blurts out before he can stop himself. junhui frowns a little, trying to remember, and wonwoo wants to reach out and smooth out the creases in his forehead, make him smile again. “the one in senior year? at hansol’s?” he prompts, and junhui’s eyes widen in understanding.

“oh, jeonghan and i weren't seriously dating or anything.” junhui explains. “it ended up just being a way to let out some feelings. for both of us.”

“oh.” wonwoo blinks dumbly. 

“it was always you.” junhui affirms. the fluttering in wonwoo’s stomach intensifies.

“well i--” wonwoo pauses, searching for the words, “i like you too, junhui. i always have.”

junhui’s mouth falls open. “you do?” he asks, incredulity seeping into his voice. at wonwoo’s nod, a grin spreads across his face, as brilliant as wonwoo remembers it being.

“i do.” wonwoo takes a careful step forward, leaving mere centimeters between them. “i think i'm in love with you, junnie.”

junhui surges forward suddenly, lips pressing onto wonwoo’s. wonwoo lets out a muffled noise of surprise, but his hand finds junhui’s hip, pulling him in closer. junhui’s lips are soft and sweet, just as wonwoo had always imagined, tasting faintly of vanilla. somewhere in the back of his mind, wonwoo thinks that he could never get enough of kissing junhui.

when they pull away, junhui’s lips are swollen pink, and wonwoo knows he doesn't look much better. they stand there for a moment, breathless, caught up in each other in ways they've only ever dreamed of.

wonwoo presses one more kiss to the corner of junhui’s mouth before he takes his hand, intertwining their fingers. “let's go home, junhui,” he murmurs, and junhui nods, smile soft and sweet in the sunlight.

and as they walk home, hands clasped and pressed close, wonwoo knows that he'll never let junhui go again.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading!! this is my first ever finished fic, and while it's unbetaed and a lil messy, i'm proud of finally finishing a work of writing :D i do want to explore this universe a little more with the other members (and other alec benjamin songs), so this may become part of a mini-series in the future. for now, i hope you enjoyed reading about my love for wen junhui and wonwoo's slightly tragic love life. comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!!
> 
> scream about wonhui with me on my [twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/aerojuns) or my [ccat](https://curiouscat.me/mochihui).


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